


You Are My Shooting Star

by Souliebird



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souliebird/pseuds/Souliebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Tim hoped, in the part of his soul that was still a little boy thinking his parents would come home for Christmas, that Bruce would break down the door and tell him to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Shooting Star

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song 'Goodbye To You' by Michelle Branch

Tim looked around his apartment, wondering how it seemed smaller now that it was completely bare. The furniture had made the space seem inviting, homely, and now that is was empty there was a coldness in the air that made Tim's spine tingle. 

He took a few long steps from the center of his once living room to a window and placed his hand on the glass as he looked out into the city. 

He would miss Gotham, as odd as it was for him to think. He'd miss its tall buildings, the darkness, the smell of the smoggy air. He would miss the ever looming sense of danger the city held. He would miss the way the city made him feel alive.

Tim wanted more than anything to stay in Gotham, but he knew if he did, he'd be dead by the end of the year. It was no longer a matter of opinion; it was a simple fact he had accepted. 

His lack of a spleen hadn't been a problem at first. He was a very healthy, fit, young male. Then he got hit with his first major infection since its removal; a cut from a rusty blade. He had been wrecked for weeks. Not too long after his recovery, he caught a bug that had turned into pneumonia. Then another infected wound, and another, and then another cold. He had been on antibiotics everyday for almost a year and it had begun to seriously wear on his body. 

He had developed an infection in his stomach that had been resistant to antibiotics, due to his abuse of them. Fighting it off on his own had nearly killed him, and after Tim knew he had to leave Gotham.

As long as Tim resided in Gotham, he would feel the need to protect it; to go out as Red Robin, to fight, and get injuries that could easily become infected. 

He had tried to do what Barbara had done and work behind the scenes in terms of vigilantism but it had done nothing but frustrate him. He ended up tossing his headset to the side after dealing with the others in the city and going out himself more often than not. 

No, Tim needed to leave the city. 

He would lie, if asked, and say it was for his own good but he cared very little for his own well being. He didn't want to die, but the thought that shook Tim to his core, to his decision, was that he could get someone else killed if he tried to go out while sick. The thought that he wouldn't be strong enough, fast enough, that he could be too ill to think clearly, was the one that made him box up his bo staff and cape and lock them away.

It hurt that no one seemed to notice Red Robin's disappearance. 

It was true that in the final months of his vigilante career, his outings had been sporadic at best, but Tim had shipped his gear to his new residence two weeks prior. No one had dropped by to see him since three weeks before that, and the last contact he had had with anyone in his Family had been Alfred, asking if Tim was going to make a move in their virtual chess game anytime soon, and that had been over a week ago.

Tim wasn't sure if he even wanted them to notice. Maybe it was for the best. Every time he had spoken to someone, variations of 'Are you okay? Maybe you should rest, take it easy, you look pretty pale still,' were said. They almost encouraged him to step down, they should all be happy he finally was. He would be one less hazard in the field.

Tim was a little bitter about it. 

He wanted, needed, someone to come and tell him he was an essential member of the team. That he couldn't be replaced. 

But he knew that wasn't true. Tim was easily replaceable, it had been shown to him over and over, by his parents, by Dick, by the Titans.

By Bruce. 

All the others were acceptable to Tim, but being replaced, forgotten, by Bruce had been nail on the coffin of Tim's internal debate on whether or not to leave. 

It was not like Tim had kept his intentions to leave hidden. In a childlike way, Tim had tried his best to make it as obvious as possible, like he was crying out for attention.

He had slowly sold all of his shares in Wayne Enterprises, and had watched as Bruce had bought them all. 

He had taken his network offline, only to see his files pop up onto the Cave computer. 

He had charged all this moving fees to Bruce's credit card, to be disappointed when they were paid off without comment. 

And in a last desperate attempt, he had called Bruce, saying he needed to talk, and was asked if it could wait until later. 

Bruce had always been the one thing Tim had clung to. Batman had been Tim's hero, had gotten him through so many things, and Tim had thought, no matter how bad things got, Bruce would be there for him. Tim had never given up on Bruce, even when everyone else thought he was dead, and Tim had thought that it would be the same for him. Bruce was Tim's father, he should have been there when Tim needed him. 

That was why Tim was standing in an empty apartment he no longer held the lease to. 

He had sent Bruce a hand written letter telling him goodbye, had it delivered to the Manor by a bike messenger, and Tim hoped, in the part of his soul that was still a little boy thinking his parents would come home for Christmas, that Bruce would break down the door and tell him to stay. 

Tim watched as the sun set over Gotham and his door stayed perfectly intact. 

As the orange faded into purple, then dark blue, Tim finally gave in. He took a deep breath and looked as his reflection, not surprised to see how red and glassy his eyes were, then turned and left the building. 

As he reached the Gotham City limits, Tim removed his phone his pocket and activated the final program he had written as Red Robin. Any evidence of his activity since his decision to let go of Gotham was erased, leaving no hint of where he was retiring to. Once the program had run its course, Tim dropped his phone onto the pavement and stomped on it until it was shattered into pieces. 

He pulled the visor back down onto his helmet and sped off, not allowing himself on last look back onto the city he loved.

Across Gotham, Bruce Wayne kicked in the door of a penthouse apartment, four of his five children behind him, and felt his heart drop to his stomach at seeing how it was abandoned.


End file.
